


Birthday Surprise

by ArianneMaya



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, MIT Era, Power Play, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>With a sigh, Jim closes the door and he asks again, "Who are you?" </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>Ed stands, almost like he's striking a pose. "I'm your birthday gift."</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>For the first time, Jim notices Ed's way too tight jeans, the almost see-through tank top under Ed's leather jacket. He is going to kill Thomas. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I messed with the timelines as much as necessary to make them fit with the story. So Tony's fifteen-ish but not yet in MIT, and Rhodey's celebrating his nineteen birthday.  
> Many thanks to Eeyore9990 for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

It feels like Jim should have seen this coming. 

He knew that his friends weren't going to let his birthday pass without some kind of celebration. And he doesn't mind, really. No matter how much they seem to think that he doesn't know how to have fun, the evening was nice. It's true that he often turns down invitations and that he isn't the kind of guy who gets drunk just to get drunk. And it's also true that Thomas, one of his roommates, had to work to convince him to go out tonight. Finals are coming and Jim's been working his ass off since the beginning. He isn't going to let all of his efforts go to waste. 

Of course, when he said that, Thomas shook his head at him. "Come on, Jim. You have a 4.0 GPA. What more could you want?" 

He had a hard time finding an answer. He's made quite a few friends since he entered MIT, but he still hasn't figured out how to explain to them what he's known for a long time: if he wants his talents to be recognized, being good will never be enough. He has to be the best. Contrary to some of them, he isn't guaranteed the career he wants just because he got into MIT. But he doesn't know how to say that in a way his friends would understand. And he's aware that it's the kind of thing they don't really want to know, even if they pretend otherwise, because it clashes too much with their view of the world. 

"It's your birthday, man. You're not spending the night alone. No way."

Jim was running out of arguments, so he said yes. And that's how he finds himself here. 

He and his friends spend the evening in one of the campus' bars. It could have been a night like any other, if it wasn't for the fact that, when Jim reached for his third drink, Thomas bent toward him and said, "Careful, Jim. You don't want to be too drunk tonight." 

So, really, he should have seen this coming. But he was too busy having fun and chose to ignore the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. 

At the end of the evening, he found himself heading home alone. Maybe he should have been worried about the wink Thomas sent his way as he said, "You don't want me there." But he was drunk enough that he didn't pay attention. 

When he opens the door to his room, the sight sobers him at once. Jim can't guess the age of the guy sprawling on their couch, but he sure as hell isn't an MIT student. He's still in the period of life when trying to grow facial hair seems like he's wishing for it more than having any. 

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The guy shrugs. "Name's Ed. I'm Thomas' little brother. He said I could crash here for the night." 

It would be believable, if it wasn't for the fact that Jim's known Thomas for almost a year now and he's met most of Thomas' family. So he knows very well that Thomas has an handful of little sisters, but no brother. 

With a sigh, he closes the door and he asks again, "Who are you?" 

Ed stands, almost like he's striking a pose. "I'm your birthday gift." 

For the first time, Jim notices Ed's way too tight jeans, the almost see-through tank top under Ed's leather jacket. He is going to _kill_ Thomas. 

"I don't know what you were told, but I don't swing that way." 

Hesitating for no more than a second, Ed makes his way to Jim, pushes his hands against the wall on either sides of Jim's waist. He's so small that Jim's almost certain he hasn't hit his last growth spurt yet. He can't be more than fifteen, maybe sixteen. Maybe. That makes it even more wrong. 

Yet, if they'd met in other circumstances, he might have been tempted. He doesn't want to think about what that says about him. 

"It's okay," Ed says. "No one has to know. Your secret's safe with me." 

Cold dread threaten to swallow Jim whole. He's been experimenting a bit, very discreetly, since he entered MIT. While he's figured out that guys do it for him as much as girls, what he wants for his life is the Air Force, not just as a job, but as a career. And in order for that to happen, he has to act like his attraction to guys doesn't exist. 

His voice comes out harsher than he wants. "I don't know what my friends told you, but this isn't happening." He hesitates a second before adding, "If you have nowhere else to go, you're welcome to crash on my couch. But I'm not having sex with you." 

With gentle hands, Jim breaks the hold Ed has on him and pushes him away. He almost smiles when he sees Ed freeze into place, as if no-one has ever told him no. Jim has a feeling that isn't far from the truth. 

"You're not going to make me believe that you don't want me." 

His back to Ed as he walks toward his desk, Jim arches an amused eyebrow. The disbelief and the arrogance the words speak of is almost charming. In big part because Ed doesn't sound like a guy who's seeing his source of money for the night slip through his fingers. He sounds like a spoiled brat who's never in his life been refused anything.

Where he came from, Jim's seen lots of kids who had no other options, who stood on street corners, freezing in clothes so threadbare, it felt like they might fall right off them at the smallest touch. Kids who'd been thrown out by their parents or who ran away from abusive households.

While he knows that appearances can be deceiving, he highly doubts that Ed comes from that kind of background. 

"You better believe it. I don't." 

It's a lie. If they'd met in other circumstances, a couple of months ago, before Jim entered college and felt like he had to behave like a responsible adult, he would have been tempted. 

As things stand, though, this is the worst idea ever. And he's going to murder his roommates for doing this to him. 

Pretending that Ed isn't in the room, Jim takes a look at the project he's currently working on. Usually, when Thomas convinces him to go out, he collapses into bed as soon as he gets home. Tonight, though, he's aware that it won't happen. Even if Ed wasn't here, Jim's too keyed up to sleep.

He hears Ed's footsteps, walking toward him until he's standing close enough that Jim can feel the heat of his body. He's expecting another clumsy attempt at seduction. Instead, Ed bends to read over Jim's shoulder. 

"Your calculation's all wrong." 

Jim barks out a laugh. "I'm sorry?" 

"Right here, see?" 

He looks down at what Ed's pointing and says, "No, it's not _wrong_. It's what I learned in class last week." 

And he wonders why he's arguing with a fifteen year old – sixteen, maybe? God, he hopes the boy is at least sixteen – prostitute over engineering. It's not like Ed understands any of it. 

"Maybe not wrong," Ed admits, "but it would work much better if you..." 

At first, he's only humoring Ed by listening to his explanation, but the more Ed keeps talking, the more Jim feels his jaw drop open at the sheer brilliance of it. 

"Where the hell did you learn that?"

It was the wrong question. Ed's eyes widen in something akin to panic, and there's very little of the self-confidence, borderline cockiness he's displayed since Jim entered the room left in his voice when he says, "When I'm interested in something, I'm a fast learner." 

That doesn't quite make sense, not unless there's something else that Jim should understand. Looking at Ed's face, though, it's clear that the last thing he wants is for Jim to figure it out. So Jim doesn't push, and, because he's curious, he steers the conversation back to engineering and some of the concepts he's currently learning. He can't help but smile at Ed's enthusiasm and he loves the feeling of debating with someone who understands most of it and is curious about everything he doesn't know, enough that he doesn't listen to the part of him telling him that it's pretty much impossible for a boy of Ed's age to understand that much. 

If they'd met in another world, Jim thinks, he and Ed might have been friends. 

It's no real surprise when, hours later, they find themselves sitting side by side on the couch. They've talked about everything and nothing all night. The only moment Ed clammed up was when Jim asked about his family. It's obviously a very sore point, so Jim didn't insist. 

So it's easy to say, "Do you want to watch a movie?" At Ed's smile, he adds, "I have a couple of tapes. Choose one." 

He almost laugh at the way Ed drops to the floor and crawls over to the small TV and the VCR hooked to it – the one very, very good thing about having Thomas as a roommate. "Stop waving your ass at me, dude, you won't make me change my mind." 

Ed throws him a look over his shoulder, cocky smile back in place. "It was worth a try!" He turns back toward the videotapes. "It's your loss, anyway. I'm bought and paid for the whole night." 

Jim should know better than to answer him. Yet he says, "And that's exactly why it won't happen." 

"I still don't believe you don't want me." 

"I don't." At Ed's dubious look, he adds, "Because you're paid to make me believe that you want me." 

Ed snorts. "Man, have you looked at yourself? Do you know how many customers I get who aren't old or ugly? I thought _I_ was the one getting lucky when you walked in." 

Shaking his head, Jim says, "I can think of at least one reason why you wouldn't want me." 

It's enough to make Ed stop perusing the tapes and stare at him. "What, because you're black?" He shrugs. "If you ask me, that doesn't make you any less hot. And knowing how much that would piss off my father? Yeah, I'd go for it."

Jim has no answer for that. He merely shakes his head, again, to remind himself that no, this isn't happening. It doesn't matter that, as the night passes, he's discovering more and more that, if Ed wasn't so young – at this point, Jim has no intention of asking for Ed's age, certain that he's better off not knowing – Ed would be just the kind of guy he'd go for in the rare occasions he allows himself to: smart and cocky enough that if feels like he needs someone who doesn't take him seriously, someone who can take him down a notch or two. 

They make it halfway through the movie, sitting side by side, with just enough inches between to say that they aren't touching, before Ed asks, "Why won't you fuck me?" 

Jim sighs. They're having a good time and he really wishes Ed would let it go, but he's aware that's not going to happen. "Because I don't fuck guys."

"Liar." It sounds like a fact more than an accusation, and it almost make Jim smile, before Ed asks again, "Why?"

"Because paying for sex is where I draw the line."

"Technically, you're not the one who's paying. And come on, you're in college. Aren't you supposed to live a little and want to try everything?" Ed's eyes sparkle as he says that, as if he has no problem imagining what he would do in Jim's place. 

Jim rests his back against the couch's arm to face Ed. "I've seen lots of kids in your position. Kids who had no other choice left if they wanted to eat and not sleep in the street. I saw the people who took advantage of them. I'm never going to be like that." 

"So you're the savior type." With a seductive smile, Ed inches closer. 

"But you don't need rescuing," Jim says, both because he believes it and to stop Ed's approach. "You could just head back where you came from." 

Retreating toward his own corner of the couch, Ed's bites out, "You know nothing about me."

"You think so?" Jim looks him over from head to toes. "Where did you run away from?" 

For a second, it feels like Ed is trying to think of a credible lie. Then he says, "Boarding school." 

Jim nods like that's what he was expecting. "And you want me to believe what? That leather jacket you're so proud of was rescued from a thrift store?"

Ed's whole face closes off until it shows nothing but pure anger. "Fuck you. Just because my family has money doesn't mean they're good people!"

With a wince, Jim realizes he went too far. "I know." He doesn't apologize, though. He's seen hungry, desperate kids, and he's sure that Ed isn't one of them. "But I have a feeling they'd take you back easily if you wanted. Not every kid in your situation can say that." 

"I'm not a kid. Come on, you're what, two years older than me? Stop being a patronizing ass." 

Jim can't hold back a smile a the bald-faced lie. He turned nineteen tonight, and no way is he going to believe that Ed is seventeen. "I'll stop when you stop behaving like a spoiled brat." 

Ed's glare softens a little as he raises his chin and asks, "Is that what you think I am?" 

"Yup. A spoiled brat who's too used to getting his own way." 

The air around them thickens to the point where Jim could swear he can taste it. Without a word, Ed crawls over to him and straddles his lap as best as he can in the cramped space of the couch. "Why don't you do something about that?"

Jim takes a deep breath, lets it out as slowly as he can. He shouldn't be as tempted as he is, but he's aware that his first mistake was to allow Ed to stay, and that they've been heading toward this since that moment. 

In part because he's figured out by now that Ed is like a dog with a bone, who won't let go until he gets what he wants, and in part because, no matter of ashamed how himself it makes him, he _wants_ this, he says, "On one condition." 

He watches Ed frown and he almost expects him to balk. Instead, though, Ed asks, "What condition?" 

"Tomorrow morning, you swallow your damn pride, and you crawl back to wherever you came from." 

"Why the hell do you care?" Ed doesn't sound angry anymore. More like curious. 

"Because you're better than this. You belong here," with one hand, Jim indicates the room, "as a student. Not selling your ass. You shouldn't waste your talents just because things don't always go the way you want."

"And how do you know I'll actually do it? I could just say that to get you to fuck me." 

"Because you'll promise me. And you'll keep your promise." 

Ed snorts. "You're so full of shit." 

"You're no better. Might be why we get along so well." 

When Ed tries to inch closer, Jim holds him off with both hands on his hips. "I'm still waiting." 

He's almost expecting Ed to back down. He wouldn't be that unhappy if it happened, but from here, it's Ed's choice. 

A full minute passes in silence before Ed says, "I'll do it. I promise." 

Jim offers him a real smile, and then he says, "Good. Now, tell me what you like." 

Ed only offers a shrug. "I'm not picky. I'm paid for the night, remember?" 

With a sigh, Jim says, "See, that's not going to work for me. At all. I don't want to spend the next weeks remembering tonight and wondering if you enjoyed yourself or not." He waits, and when Ed doesn't answer, he changes his question to, "Do you know what you like?" 

If the answer is no, they'll figure something out. Jim's aware it might be the case, considering that Ed couldn't be that experienced if it wasn't for the fact that he's selling his ass for money. 

Instead of the cocky, _of course I do_ that Jim was expecting if Ed's answer wasn't no, Ed can't seem to look at him in the eyes as he says, "A bit, yeah." 

"So tell me." 

"Not this." Jim arches an eyebrow at him, patiently waiting until Ed continues, "Not knowing what to expect." 

Jim takes a moment to consider that. "You wants rules. Clear expectations." 

Ed shakes his head, but it's as if all of his blood is redirected toward his dick, slowly hardening against Jim, or toward his burning cheeks. "I'm not good at following rules." 

"But you like being made to follow them." Again, there's no answer, but Jim takes the way Ed cautiously avoids his gaze as confirmation. "What else?" 

It's Ed's turn to sigh. "Can't you just shut up and fuck me?" 

Jim almost bursts out laughing. He stops himself at the last second, but his grin is firmly into place when he says, "I can do that. As soon as you tell me how you like it." 

"God, you're annoying." Ed lets his head fall on Jim's shoulder. 

Turning his head so his breath tickles Ed's skin, Jim says, "Not God. Just Jim." 

It's a bad joke and he knows it, but it gets the reaction he was hoping for, and the tension finally goes down a notch as Ed laughs into Jim's shoulder. "That. Was. Terrible." 

"At least it made you laugh." He waits until Ed stops laughing and looks at him again before he says, "Just answer the question, and I'll let it go." 

Narrowing his eyes at him, Ed says, "You're one of _those_ , aren't you?"

"Of what?"

"You know." It's only when it becomes clear Jim has no idea what he's talking about that Ed says, "You like to take control in bed." 

Tonight would be easier if he just denied it, but at this point, and with someone who's probably seen variations of this many times, Jim has a feeling it would be useless. "If the person I'm with wants it and enjoys that as much as I do, yeah." The smug look on Ed's face makes him feel like he just walked into a trap. "What is it?"

"You said person. I was right. _I don't fuck guys_ was bullshit." 

Jim can't help the way his grip tightens on Ed's hips. "That isn't leaving this room, right?"

"Of course," Ed says, a little too fast. "I don't see why, though. Why would you want to spend your life hiding part of yourself?"

Jim wonders if it's part of why Ed ran away from that boarding school of his, but he doesn't ask. "If and when the career you choose requires it of you, we'll talk again." 

Ed shakes his head at him but Jim doesn't try and explain any more. Instead, he asks, "So are you answering my question or do we keep talking all night?" 

"If we keep talking all night, it's your friend's money gone to waste. Not my problem." 

Jim thumps his head against the back of the couch. He really wishes Ed would stop reminding him that he's here because he was paid at every turn. 

But he also can't let himself forget it. This isn't a guy that he picked up in a bar out of mutual attraction. He's doing this in the hope that Ed will keep his promise, go back to his family and make something out of his life. Besides, Jim knows Ed had already thought about it. He wouldn't have agreed that easily otherwise. 

If Ed is the kind of smart and funny little guy that Jim would go for if he wasn't that young, that doesn't matter. It can't. 

"Oh, yeah?" With a smile, Jim releases Ed's hip and presses his palm against Ed's dick. "You want me to believe that you won't mind going home alone and taking care of this by yourself?" 

With a groan, Ed pushes into Jim's grip. "You're stealing my line." 

"Look," Jim says, as sweet as he can possibly be. "You want me to fuck you?" He waits until Ed nods, pupils blown wide with desire. "Don't try and guess what I want. Just tell me how you like it, and it's a done deal." Before Ed can answer, Jim adds, "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear."

After almost a minute of silence, another blush creeps on Ed's face as he says, "Slow. Gentle. Lots of prep, and I really mean _lots_."

Finally on his way to hardness thanks to Ed's words, Jim brings a hand to the nape of Ed's neck to make him bend his head, until he's within kissing distance and he whispers, "You like having your ass played with, huh?" 

If possible, Ed blushes even more, and it's easy for Jim to see that he's forcing the words out, that this isn't the kind of thing he usually admits. "Yeah. I really do."

And Jim would bet anything that with most men Ed's been with, prep was nothing but a means to an end, and that it wasn't often that he got some of what he really enjoyed. 

He closes the inches of distance remaining between them and kisses Ed, long and slow and careful. He feels Ed go all soft in his arms, the remaining tension seeping out of him. All the doubts Jim still has fly right out of his head. He shouldn't be doing this, he knows it. He knows every single reason why this is a bad idea, but he's also aware that, once he's out of college and joins the Air Force, unless he finds a partner he can trust and who doesn't mind keeping everything in the closet, this will never happen again. 

And if he still has doubts, they're definitely not over the enthusiasm in Ed's kisses. So much so that it takes an effort to push him away and say, "Let's move this to the bed. We'll be more comfortable there." 

Said bed is like in any dorm, and too small for two people to sleep on. But Jim knows for a fact that, as long as his plans involve no sleep, it does the job. 

Now that they've started, they can't seem to stop kissing, shedding their clothes on the way. By the time the back of Ed's knees hit the bed, they're both naked and grinding against each other like their life depends on it. 

By now, Jim is fully hard and aware that this will end far too soon if he doesn't slow things down. Ed's so small that it's easy to manhandle him onto the bed, in big part because he isn't fighting it, to push and pull until he's on his elbows and knees, with his ass in the air. 

Jim gives himself a couple of strokes at the sight because _damn_. Ed is gorgeous, in a way Jim couldn't notice earlier because he was so frustrated at Thomas for playing such a mean trick on him. 

When he doesn't feel like he's going to lose it just from looking at Ed – even though he knows getting hard again would be damn easy and a matter of minutes, he doesn't want to appear too eager – he drapes himself over Ed's back, making him feel every inch of him. He allows himself a smile at the way Ed shivers. 

"Damn," Ed whispers, "How do you do this? I feel like I'm gonna come any second." 

"You need to learn self-control. I'm surprised no-one ever tried to teach you."

Ed laughs into the pillow. "Most customers like the fact that I come and am hard again so fast. Makes them feel like they're more of a man."

Jim closes his eyes, rests his head against Ed's back. He takes one long breath, then another one, until he can speak without letting this reference to Ed's previous customers get to him. He isn't any better than any of them by doing this, he knows it. And while he wishes that Ed would stop reminding him so often, maybe it's a good thing that he doesn't forget it. 

Even though it makes him feel like a shitty person every time it happens. 

Slowly, he says, "I don't need that kind of reassurance." He busses a kiss against Ed's shoulder. "Now, be good. And don't move." 

"That's easy for you to say." 

Smiling against Ed's shoulder, Jim says, "Why don't I give you more of an incentive? If you move, I stop." 

Ed shakes his head. "Sure, I believe you." 

"I'm not the one who hired you, remember? I had no plans of getting laid tonight. I could go without, and I wouldn't even mind." It's isn't true, not now that he has Ed naked on his bed, all his to taste and enjoy. But Ed doesn't need to know that. 

It seems to be enough. Ed throws a smile at Jim over his shoulder. "Do your worst." 

"Remember. Don't move." 

Ed nods before letting his head drop forward. No matter what he said, he obeys so easily that Jim grabs the base of his own dick, hard. The last thing he wants is for this to end too fast. 

Slowly, Jim trails kisses down the line of Ed's back. Under the taste of sweat, there's just a hint of soap, just enough to let Jim know that Ed hasn't seen anybody else tonight and that he's had a thorough shower. He loses himself in the taste of Ed's skin, all of his blood redirected toward his aching dick at the first touch of his tongue over the skin of Ed's ass. 

He keeps things light, kissing with just a hint of teeth all over Ed's ass, his thighs, anywhere he can reach but always avoiding his hole, until he can see Ed's thigh tremble from the tension, until he hears him say, with so much frustration, "Are you done teasing?"

Jim doesn't ask him to beg. Not yet. It will happen later, that's not even a question, but the anticipation is enough for now. 

Instead, he does exactly what they both want: he spreads Ed's ass with his thumbs, licks and kisses, all over and inside his hole until he feels the muscle relax, until Ed's practiced groans turn into out-of-control breathy little whimpers that he can barely hear. 

He licks his way deep into Ed's ass, his own body on the verge of combustion just at the thought of being inside him. He can wait, though, aware as he is that the anticipation will make it so much better for both of them. So he loses himself into the smell and taste of Ed's skin, the hint of soap quickly washed away under the strength of Ed's need. He listens for the sounds and words of desire that Ed can't help but let out. 

He couldn't say how long it lasts. By the time he stops, he can feel Ed's body opening under him, trying to draw him inside, and he brings one hand to Ed's hip to stop the tiny, tiny thrusts of his hips. He doesn't know if Ed's trying to push away from the sensation or into it, but it doesn't matter. Not when it's so easy to fuck Ed's ass with his tongue, to draw all kinds of greedy little sounds out of his mouth like he's so far gone that he can't form words anymore, each and every one of them going straight to Jim's dick. 

One last lick, one last kiss, and Jim pulls away, drawing a frustrated groan out of Ed. Before Ed can say anything, though, Jim whispers to him, "I'm just getting the lube." Instead of relaxing, Ed tenses all over and Jim has a feeling that, no matter how much he wants to be inside him, he'll have to take things slow. He's ready to bet a lot that, it's not just that Ed loves being fingered; it's that he usually has to go through it with the bare minimal amount of prep, and that no matter what he says, he hasn't had that many occasions to enjoy being fucked. 

The thought makes Jim even more determined to do this right. It takes him a minute of searching before he fishes the lube out of the bedside table, along with a condom that he leaves at the head of the bed, where there's no chance of it getting lost. 

Ed gives it a funny look. "You know that's not necessary, right?" 

Jim stops dead in his tracks. He knows that not everyone is as careful as he is, especially not the kind of people who'd hire a prostitute. He knows that not every college kid's had a mom who was a nurse at the local hospital, a mom who made sure that they visited and met some of the patients in the wing where the hospital kept the people dying of AIDS. As to how she made that possible, Jim has no idea; but after that visit, it was very, very easy to give his mom the promise she wanted that he'd never have sex without a condom, and to stick to it. He'd tried to convince her that he wasn't going to, anyway, but she just threw him a look, and said, "Please, Jim. I know most kids these days don't wait to be married." And when he'd tried to argue again, she'd said, with that look of hers that said she understood a lot more than what he meant to show, “I don't care who you love, Jim. As long as they make you happy.” He'd hugged her tight, at a loss for words to tell her how much it meant to him, how relieved he felt knowing that no matter what, he'd never have to hide from her.

No way is he going to explain all this to someone who's still a stranger. All he can do is hope like hell that Ed's still healthy and that he'll keep his promise and get out of that life once their night together is over. 

"I'm not fucking you without it." 

Ed shrugs. "Your choice, man. Feels better without it, though." 

Feeling bile rising in his throat at the idea of the men who fucked Ed without a condom, who exposed him to Jim doesn't know how many risks, Jim has to stop and take a deep breath, then another one. He waits until he can push all of his thoughts of Ed's former customers to the back of his mind, until his focus is, once again, on here, and now, and what's happening between the two of them. 

***

If he wasn't so far lost in desire, Tony would roll his eyes at Jim's insistence that they use a condom. He'd have expected Jim to have dropped the nice guy act by now, even though he's been very constant through the whole night. 

He still doesn't know if he believes that Jim's friend hired him without Jim's knowledge, but at this point, he doesn't give a fuck. 

Except that Jim stays immobile far too long for Tony's comfort. "What are you waiting for?" With anybody else, he'd have a tease on the tip of his tongue about wanting Ed to beg - he's gotten used to thinking of himself by his middle name in that kind of situation because it makes everything easier for everyone involved - but instead, he hears himself saying, "Have you forgotten which part goes where?" 

He's almost expecting a slap. Instead, he feels Jim rest his forehead against his back, his movement so subtle that it takes Tony a minute to realize that Jim's laughing. He can't help his pleased smile or the way it makes him feel warm all over. He's aware his reaction is ridiculous - letting a john get to him in any kind of way is a recipe for disaster - but he's feeling better than he has in weeks. 

"Smart-ass." Jim says when he finally catches his breath. Then he licks, again, at the small of Tony's back, and every possible answer flies right out of Tony's head. 

He hears the snick of a cap, and moments later, he feels the slow, even pressure of Jim's fingers against his asshole. He angles his body for more, trying to beg without words, but Jim keeps his touch light, not even trying to push inside even though Tony feels his body trying to draw him in. He's ready, more than ready, but he knows that tonight will happen at the pace Jim's chosen. 

"Come on," he says a little later, when his movement and his moans bear no results. "You have to give me more." Again, nothing, just a little more pressure. And Tony finally whispers, asks, begs, "Please." 

Air rushes out of him all at once when Jim finally pushes one finger inside, nowhere near enough but still closer to what Tony really wants. Jim's kept him waiting long enough that his simple contact makes him light-headed. "All you had to do was ask." 

Tony grits his teeth, curls his fingers in the sheets. Now that he knows what Jim wants, it should be easy, but it's like every time he tries, Ed's persona slip right through his fingers. Maybe because of this strange bargain he's made with Jim, or maybe because, even though it's impossible, it feels like Jim really cares. 

He can't let himself believe that. He's made that mistake before and was in for a world of hurt the next morning. 

So he closes his eyes and enjoys the moment for what it is, wondering why Jim isn't hurrying more, why he has to take his time so much, like he knows that it's driving Tony right out of his mind. 

Jim pushes another finger in, crooks them just right, and Tony curses into the pillow. It's all happening so slow that he barely feels the stretch, just enough of it to make it more intense, more right, but never to the point where he doesn't know if he can take it, as it happened so many times before. And he's so far out of his comfort zone that he can't help but bark, "Will you hurry?"

As he adds a third finger and makes Tony see stars, Jim whispers into his ear, "You asked for slow, remember?" 

Tony has nothing to say to that. Yes, he did, but he was expecting Jim to be asking just for the sake of asking, not because he meant to do what Tony wanted. He'd been so sure that Jim would tire of this game he was playing long before they got to the main act. 

And he desperately wants not to feel anything, but the steady pressure in his ass is so right, the small movement hits just the right spot to make him push back against Jim's fingers, to try and take them deeper, faster, even though nothing he can say or do seems to change anything about Jim's pace.

His breath comes out of him in pants, rapid-fire and out of control. And through the haze of his mind, he hears Jim say, softly, "Shhh, sweetheart. Just enjoy the ride." 

The pet name breaks something inside of Tony, and he hides his face in his arm. If he could, he'd put a stop to this, because as much as he's enjoying all the attention Jim's lavishing on him, it's making him feel naked and vulnerable in a way he thought he'd learned not to allow himself to be with a john a long time ago. 

Instead, though, he takes it all in, Jim's caring words, his gentle touches, and he allows himself to enjoy it. 

He can feel the stretch but there's nothing painful about it. Instead of the sensation he was expecting, there's just the amazing sensation of being filled to his very core, the occasional jab of Jim's fingers that hit just the right spot. He pushes against Jim's fingers but Jim keeps the same slow, torturous rhythm, until Tony's whole body is trembling with pleasure under the assault. 

Until he has no hope of holding onto any thought beyond what's happening here and now, and again, he has to ask, to beg, "More. Give me more, _please_."

If possible, Jim pushes his fingers farther in, spreading them and knocking the breath out of Tony. He brushes a kiss against the skin of Tony's back. "You ready for my cock, baby?" 

Even the pet name isn't enough to stop the flow of words tumbling out of Tony. "Please, yes, please, I need it, please." He's so far gone that begging is easy. 

Jim drapes himself over Tony's back, reaches for the condom. Instead of going for it, though, he asks, "How do you want it?" 

Like this, Tony wants to say, if only so it will stop feeling like his whole world is being tilted on its axis with every move Jim pulls. Like this, so he can hide and forget that tonight keeps on surprising him at every turn. 

And, in part because he knows that's what Jim wants to hear, and in part because no matter how destabilizing it all is, there's no way he can pretend that tonight isn't affecting him, he says, so low he's sure Jim has to strain to hear him, "On my back." 

He feels Jim's lips against his shoulder. There's no denying the pleased note in Jim's voice when he says, "Roll over." 

Tony does, even though it's the worst idea ever. He's harder than he's ever been in his life, his dick leaking precome as Jim fits them together, as he pulls one of Tony's legs over his hip. It's too much and not enough all at once and Tony wants to hide from it all. 

It's a relief when Jim kisses him at the same time as he enters him, noises of pleasure getting lost in each other's mouth. Tony almost expects it to make everything worse, because there's no denying the tenderness with which Jim holds him, the words of praise Tony feels more than he hears through their kisses. 

But he can close his eyes, and pretend that there's no money burning the inside pocket of his jacket. He can pretend that he's just another student here, as he should be, as he could be if he went home with his tail between his legs, and that this, here, means something. 

He can focus only on here and now, on the strength of Jim's body, on the way Jim's filling him, possessing him, short, shallow thrusts that should feel like it's not enough but instead only make this more intimate. 

He clings to Jim as Jim picks up the pace, as the hard, steady pressure of his dick inside Tony's ass becomes everything Tony can feel. It shouldn't feel this good but it does. As stupid as it sounds, he feels cared for, even though he knows Jim's only pretending. 

Another kiss, deep and long and soft, and Jim's hand finds its way between them, to Tony's dick, caught between their bodies. "You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" 

Tony cries out as he does, almost at the first touch of Jim's hand. He's so far gone that all he needs is a stroke or two before he comes all over the two of them. 

Being fucked on the aftermath of an orgasm is always a little too much, yet he finds himself pulling Jim as close as he can, egging him to go faster, harder. He wants to give this to Jim, in part because he knows that Jim wouldn't have forced this on him, that he was ready to pull out and jerk off instead. 

Tears pool at the corner of Tony's eyes but pleasure sings through his whole body. He feels a little bit of control back in his own hands when Jim's rhythm grows erratic, when he comes, buried deep inside Tony's body. 

Jim pulls out and goes away only long enough to dispose of the condom. Then he comes back to the bed and gathers Tony into his arms. "Is this okay?"

It's a bad idea. Tony should already be gathering his clothes and getting ready to leave. Instead, he nods, because this kind of comfort, of human affection without any motive behind it, is something he doesn't get often enough. 

Jim's alarm wakes them up a couple of hours later. Like on autopilot, Tony gets dressed. As he pulls on his leather jacket, he almost says that, if Jim wants to see him again, his friend has his number. But he doesn't dare. No matter how much tonight unsettled him, it's better if it's a one-off, easily forgotten. 

He's ready to walk out and go back to his sorry excuse of a life. Before he does, though, Jim hugs him one last time and says, "Keep your promise." When Tony doesn't answer, too shocked to think of anything to say, Jim takes a step back and brings a hand to Tony's chin, holding him into place as he says, "Swallow your damn pride. Don't let it get in the way of what you could do with your life."

Tony feels his eyes grow wide. It would be easy to lie. He's learned to very fast when he found himself faced with johns who were men he knows from his father's entourage. He's lied about his age, about the fact that yeah, his look is a bit similar to Tony Stark's and he uses the guy's middle name, but he's not him, yanno? And he always felt his heart sink at how easily he could convince them, how easy it was for them to forget their doubts for a pretty piece of ass. 

But Tony knows that Jim's right, that he could go back if he wanted to. All he has to do is to contact his mom first, because he knows she really cares, and then with his father, to say the right things at the right moment and apologize, even though he still thinks he didn't do anything wrong. 

And it feels like Jim really cares, like it doesn't matter that they don't know each other, like he wants to help Tony as best as he can. 

So Tony isn't lying when he says, "I will. I promise." 

***

The next year, Jim's once again rooming with Thomas and Victor, another student he's shared classes with. The name of their fourth roommate, however, makes him do a double take: Tony Stark. 

Jim's heard of him, of course. Everyone's heard of the fifteen year old genius who got early admission to MIT. And he can imagine how hard it has to be for him, even though he definitely has the brain and the skills to be here. So while Thomas and Victor complain that they're going to be stuck with a kid, Jim decides to be nice. 

That is, until he meets Tony. All of his welcoming words die right on his tongue as he remembers his new roommate's full name. Antony _Ed_ ward Stark. 

Tony Stark and Jim's underage hooker are one and the same. 

He is so very, very _fucked_.


End file.
